Too Late
He could never erase that awful day from his memory. He refused to open his eyes at first, but his daddy forced him with a hand gripped firmly around the back of his neck. Before he could turn away from the horror that had been Earl, the sight had burned an indelible mark on his soul. It was too late.
No matter he ran as fast as he could, he still didn't make it. They left before he could say good-bye, tell his momma that he loved her. So he waved from the rise near the road as the car drove past towards town. Then he learned he would never be able to say it to her again. It was too late.
Driving away from him, he only made it a few miles, before he had to pull over quick. He fell from the truck just in time to puke his guts out kneeling on the waving grass by the side of the road. He didn't know why, but he had this feeling in his gut. It was too late.
Before God and everyone assembled, he looked at her and said the words she wanted him to say, but deep in his heart he realized he said it to the wrong person. Now he had no choice. It was too late.
Four years later, he had to turn him away. They both knew what they wanted, but couldn't have, nothing either of them could do about it except stand it. It was too late.
As he watched him turn around and walk dejectedly to his truck, every fiber of his being screamed to run after him, apologize, hold him tight and never let him ago. But his girls were there, watching, and he stood paralyzed. By the time his feet came unstuck, his truck had disappeared down the road. It was too late.
The rear view mirror told the story backwards, like his life. Not real, not right, always wrong. Just like his words only minutes before. When he turned the corner and lost sight of him, he figured he had lost him forever. It was too late.
The glass walls of the phone booth supported his full weight as the words came clipped and cold over a thousand miles of impersonal telephone line. A terrible accident had taken away his life, and had left him alone. He would never again feel the warmth blossom inside him as he lay beside him. It was too late.
His momma sat there pale and nervous, after offering cake that would only taste like cardboard no matter how much love went into the making. The stud duck spit into his coffee cup as he offered to spread his ashes over the one place on earth that was theirs and theirs alone. No, when the time came, he would stay on his ancestors' land, the land he had run from as soon as he could, and would now be tied to forever. No more freedom to roam. It was too late.
When the door opened behind him, and boots scraped off the day's detritus, the hairs on the back of his head rose. When the voice matched that of a dead man, he began trembling from head to foot. When he looked into eyes of blue, he couldn't hold it together and for the first time in his life fainted dead away. Was it too late?
He awoke surrounded by loving arms and gazing into eyes filled with love and concern. Reaching up he touched the face above him, finger tracing the scar. A kiss confirmed reality. Stud duck, bitch Lureen, and the rest of the whole world be damned, he wouldn't let go. It wasn't too late.
Four years later, he still woke up surrounded by loving arms, gazing into eyes filled with love, in their own bed in their own cabin, far enough away from the main house to ensure privacy. Both families had postured and argued, but in the end gave way, unable to fix it to their liking, so having to stand it. It was too late.
They lived their sweet life as best they could, standing firm together, facing up to harsh realities with grace and determination, making friends in unexpected places, playing with grandbabies when allowed. And to everyone that asked, they always replied without hesitation that one should grab the chance when first given, before it was too late.